


Sky

by HollowEmptyEyes



Category: Sky: Children of the Light (Video Game)
Genre: One Shot, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28167393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowEmptyEyes/pseuds/HollowEmptyEyes
Summary: This fic can be read without context, since no characters are named and no direct references to lore are made. If you have played Sky, however, you’ll get the nods I made to the game. If you haven’t played it, I thoroughly recommend it.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	Sky

I watched you play your piano seven times. You’d carry it on your back, through all weather. It had nine white keys and six black keys. Such a small piano, such a beautiful sound. You painted it blue, like the sky. I like the colour blue. It reminds me of water. It reminds me of you.

The first time I saw you play your sky-blue, fifteen-keyed piano was in the rain, shrouded by platoons of trees. You had propped up your turquoise umbrella beside you against a small clump of rocks, shielding yourself from the torrent. There were small lights hanging from it. I liked that umbrella. You were hidden by the golden cloak that you always wore, with the line of stars running up it’s back. The song you were playing was a sorrowful aria, overflowing with pain and passion, notes spilling from your fingers like the downpour surrounding you.

The second time I saw you play your sky-blue, fifteen-keyed piano was bathed in daylight. The prairies rolled and sung along with your joyful tune. Your golden cloak flashed in the sun, sending sparks of light into my eyes any time I watched for too long. Swaying with your rhythm, a small crowd of three had encircled you. One of them was dancing, another applauding. The third simply kneeled in silence, drinking in the music. I didn’t join them.

The third time I saw you play your sky-blue, fifteen-keyed piano was by a fire on the grey sands of dawn. There was a mask on your face in the shape of a fox. It’s glowing silver eyes watched as your fingers graced the ivory. I joined you this time, listened to the soft lullabye beside you. I remember that you were much taller than me. You cast a soothing shadow onto your cloak.

The fourth time I saw you play your sky-blue, fifteen-keyed piano was confined within the stone walls of a library of knowledge. The navy light filtered and sparkled onto the floor in beautiful peace, careful not to disturb your performance. I recognised this song; I had heard it somewhere before. It was minimalist, reflecting on the emptiness of the space around us. It was the first time we talked to one-another. You rather enjoyed conversing about the places you’d visited. You gave me a candle as a gift and thanked me for listening. I placed it by the piano. It was the same colour as your cloak.

The fifth time I saw you play your sky-blue, fifteen-keyed piano was surrounded by cheering crowds. They weren’t cheering for you, but you promised me that one day they would. People were racing down slopes of snow, skidding around each other, overtaking one-another, eyes set on the final mark. The seats that the spectators rested on were arranged in a circle around the center podium. We were sitting at the front, and you were playing an energetic tune; you told me later that you composed in the heat of the moment. The screaming of the people almost drowned it out. I had to lean in to hear the notes.

The sixth time I saw you playing your sky-blue, fifteen-keyed piano was in the darkness. We were hiding from the dark dragons. The corpse of a temple that we were huddled in was damp and cold. I was very scared. You played a warm melody to lift my spirits. You played by the light of the candle that was the colour of your cloak. You let me wear your fox mask.

The seventh time I saw you play your sky-blue, fifteen-keyed piano was at the end of the world. Rocks were flying through the air. The sky was blood red and the water below us rose to my knees. It was cold. Blackened statues kneeled and huddled and fought against the screaming gale. The storm raged. I hid with you underneath your golden cloak. You had been struck to the ground. You could barely move. There were tear tracks on your cheeks. The piano was crushed, no longer the colour of the sky. Two of the black keys and one of the white keys were gone. You told me to look away. Standing on shaking legs, you faced the storm. You played three notes: B,D,A. And then you gave me the piano.

It has been six years, eight months, and twenty-three days since you played those notes. Seasons have come and gone, the world has turned, and yet nobody seems to notice your absence. I repainted your piano. I replaced the keys, though I couldn’t quite find enough. It only has fourteen now. It’s a different shade from what it used to be, but I’ll never forget what it once was. I’ll never forget the golden cloak, or the fox mask, or the umbrella strung with lights. I’ll never forget you.

Sometimes, I take out my candle and stand it by the piano. It’s only a stump now, but it never disappeared entirely. I try to play by the flickering light. It’s old and slightly out of tune, but it still works. I like to play those three notes.

I’ll never be as good as you were.


End file.
